The Death of Andrew Martin
by Elsie Dewey
Summary: A radio adaptation of Isaac Asimov's novella "The Bicentennial Man" : the story of a robot who becomes a man.


_Death of Andrew Martin/Bicentennial Man_, p. 1

The Death of Andrew Martin

[_The Bicentennial Man_]

Cast:

Doubling would not only be practical, but, if selected properly, desirable.

Men:

Andrew Martin

Sir (Gerald Martin)

Paul Charney

Simon DeLong

Alvin Magdescu

William Johnstone

Old Roger Bailey

Director of U.S. Robots

President

Car

Women:

Senator Li-Hsing Chee

Old Little Miss

Mother (Roger's mother)

Children:

Miss (Missy Martin)

Little Miss (Mandy Martin)

Roger Bailey

{Parklike nature sounds. A car drives up rapidly on a paved driveway and stops. The door opens and slams as Alvin Magdescu - a small, wiry, elderly man of ninety - climbs out.}

Mag: Park, and watch for me to come out.

Car: (a clearly synthetic voice) Yes, sir.

{The car pulls away, and he walks up a short paved path and knocks on a door. It opens.}

Bill: Mr. Magdescu? Come in. (William Johnstone, a sober, scholarly man of about 65, leads him in. The door closes behind them. They talk as they enter the room.}

Mag: I got here as soon as I could. How is he?

Bill: He's alert most of the time. (Sighing) None of us expected him to fail this quickly. {Stopping.} You know Simon DeLong, of Feingold and Charney?

Mag: (slightly displeased) Yes. We've met in court several times, haven't we?

Simon: (apologetically) I'm afraid we have. {He is a hale, bluff, heavy-set man, in his late seventies.}

Bill: Excuse me. {A door opens and closes as he leaves the room.}

Mag: (pleasantly) Well, we've nothing left to fight about, and this is no time for bitterness. By the way, who was that?

Simon: William Johnstone, his chief research assistant.

Mag: Uhm ("I understand")1. (Sighing and shaking his head.) I can't get used to the idea. Andrew Martin is really dying!

Simon: It doesn't seem possible - so soon. It's as if he achieved his goal and (shrugging) just let go.

Mag: I think you're right. He... {As he speaks, the door opens}

Bill: Gentlemen? Mr. Martin would like you to come in.

{They cross softly to the door, which closes behind them. The room they enter is somewhat larger and sparsely furnished, with a hospital-type bed toward the center. A monitor quietly signals impulses. The men step gently to the bedside.}

Sim: Hello, Andrew.

And: (Acknowledging the greeting - he sounds weak, but not elderly) Simon. Is that Alvin Magdescu with you?

Mag: Yes ... Glad to see you, Andrew.

And: (As chattily as his weakness will allow) How's the business?

Mag: U.S. Robots is going strong. (A little strained - at a loss for what else to say) Your inventions accounted for almost a third of our profits last quarter.

And: That's good. I'm glad they're still helpful.

(A pause: no one quite knows what to say.)

Sim: Well, ... I never thought I'd live to see this.

And: All men must die, Simon. I am content. {In his mind2, he says,} And I am a man. I want to go out on that thought. I am a man. But...the old memories will crowd in. Of the old days. So long ago - two hundred years. Before I was a man...when ... I was a robot.

{The sound of peaceful, parklike, outdoors rises - much like those at the opening. We are outside the Martin House on a warm spring afternoon.}

Sir: Missy! Mandy! Come on out! (He is a tall, energetic, man in his late thirties.)

Miss: Daddy! {Running toward him across pavement and fading up} Daddy! (She is about six years old.)

Sir: Where's my little cupcake?

Miss: Oh, Daddy! That's silly!

Sir: (a little disappointed) Well, give your old father a kiss anyway.

Miss: (she does so, loudly) Umm-Ma!

Sir: Where's your mother?

Miss: She's out.

Sir: (very disappointed: aside) Again? Oh well. (Loudly, for the benefit of Little Miss, who hasn't come yet.) Who wants to see what I've got?

{As childish footsteps crossing pavement fade up, we hear}

L Miss: I do I do I do! (She is about four years old.)

Sir: Where's my little cherry-on-top?

Miss: (ad libbing during the exchange between Sir and Little Miss – trying to get his attention) Daddy? ...

L Miss: Here I am!

Sir: How much do you love me?

L Miss: Thiiiis much!3

Miss: ... Daddy! ...

Sir: (laughing and picking her up) That's my little cherry-on-top!

Miss: Daddy! Did you bring home a knight?

Sir: No, sweetheart, that's a robot. (Putting Little Miss down) He's going to help around the house ... (confidentially) and keep an eye on my best girls. (Aloud) That's NDR-Oh Eight One Seven.

L Miss: En-der-oh? His name is An-der-ew?

Sir: (laughing) I guess it is now. (to Andrew) You answer to Andrew now.

And: Yes, sir. (as disinterested as a silent butler. His voice sounds processed4.)

Miss: (Squealing at the speech) Ooh! Is he alive?

Sir: No, Missy, he's a machine. Say hello to the girls, Andrew.

And: How do you do, Miss. How do you do, Little Miss5. (Statements, not questions)

(The girls are shy, and don't answer)

Sir: Oh, come on girls. He won't hurt you. He can't hurt you. Don't be shy.

Miss: (uncertainly) He's almost as big as you are, Daddy.

L Miss: He sure is shiny. Are you going to play with us, Andrew?

And: I am programmed to obey the orders issued by members of the Gerald Martin family in hierarchal order, within the limits of my physical and mental capacity.

Miss: (as Andrew speaks) Huh?

Sir: (trying to keep from laughing) He means "yes", unless your mother or I have told him to do something else. He has to do what we tell him to. Since the house is automated, I'm sure he'll have plenty of time for games. (Squeezing the girls so they giggle.) But don't wear him out: he's still experimental and we don't want U.S. Robots embarrassed by a junior senator's daughters! Now, why don't you two...

{His pager goes off, and he checks it.}

Miss: Why don't we what?

Together

L Miss: Are you going to stay here, Daddy?

Sir: Senator Bently (to himself-referring to the source of the page). And he doesn't wait well. I'll have to call him now. (Hurriedly issuing "orders") Andrew, when you get a chance, bring my luggage in from the car. {Walking away, into the house} Missy, why don't you show him where to put it, and then you and Mandy can show him around the house. {Stopping abruptly.} Wait a minute! Missy, were you alone in the house?

Miss: No, Daddy, I was with Mandy!

L Miss: And I was with Missy!...

Sir: (growling with indignation, during Little Miss's speech) Of all the ...

L Miss: ...And we were outside playing Hide and Seek until...

Sir: (cutting her off) And you're both with Andrew now! I don't want you two left alone. You keep a close watch on my girls, Andrew!

And: Yes, Sir. (But Sir doesn't pause to hear his response.) {The pager goes off again}

Sir: (to the pager) Oh, shut up. {Striding away quickly, muttering to himself.} What could she have been thinking {fading into the house, as the door closes} leaving them alone like that...

(Miss and Little Miss both sigh deeply as he goes in the house.) {They sink onto the concrete steps of the house}

L Miss: Daddy's going away again. I miss Daddy.

Miss: (wearily) Silly. He hasn't left yet.

L Miss: But he will.

Miss: He always does when Senator Bently calls.

And: (Uncertain how to bring up the subject) Sir ordered me to take this luggage from the car, and, I assume, put it in the house?

Miss: Oh, why bother. You'll just have to put it back when he gets off the phone.

And: (Uncertainly) Nevertheless, he did order me to bring in the luggage.

Miss: (sniffing) That wasn't much of an order. He said "When you get a chance." That's not much of an order.

And: (Still uncertainly) Well...

Miss: He made a bigger deal about watching us. (She gets an idea.) Heyyyy! ...

And: ... (Thinking out loud) That was a more definite command.

Miss: You have to do what we tell you?

And: Yes, Miss.

Miss: (to Little Miss) Watch this. (To Andrew) Do you know how to play Hide and Seek?

And: I am not familiar with the activity...

(Miss and Little Miss groan in disappointment.)

And: ...But I am designed to adapt to new skills rapidly.

L Miss: (to Miss) What did he say?

And: (catching on to the importance of speaking simply) I can learn.

Miss: (brightening considerably) Then we order you to play Hide and Seek with us!

And: (thinking a moment before responding) I'm afraid that Sir's prior order regarding the luggage...

Miss: Aw, he just asked you. He told you to watch us. And we order you to play with us!

L Miss: (Little Miss Echo) Yeah! We order you!

Miss: And you have to do it! (Suddenly a little timid and plaintive) Don'tcha?

And: (Thinking out loud, half to himself) Three non-contradictory orders would take precedence over one request. (Aloud) How does one play Hide and Seek?

(Miss and Little Miss cheer and laugh at their success.) {Their voices fade as the three walk away from the front of the house.}

Miss: Well, you cover your eyes and count to a hundred, and then you've got to find us. Only you can't skip any numbers when you count. Mandy always skips numbers.

L Miss: I do not!

Miss: You do so because you don't know how to count!

L Miss: Well you never let me hide! I want to hide this time.

Miss: Andrew's gonna count, so you can hide now. . .

{Outdoor noises fade up again. Several months have passed, and we are now on the patio of the Martin House. It is late summer, and the breeze rustles the leaves. A small fountain trickles in the background.}

L Miss: (Fading up) How come I couldn't come to your birthday party?

Miss: (irritably) 'Cause you're too little. This was a party for big girls.

L Miss: I'm almost a big girl, aren't I, Andrew?

And: Yes, Little Miss. (He speaks dispassionately)

L Miss: Couldn't I come to your party?

Miss: It's over with, silly! Mrs. Feingold and Charlene and everybody have all gone home!

L Miss: Are those your presents? Can I look at them?

Miss: (Sulkily) No.

L Miss: (Not waiting for an answer) Those are nice presents! Aren't they nice presents?

And: (To Little Miss) They're very nice.

L Miss: They're very nice, Missy.

Miss: They're stupid presents! They aren't what I wanted! (Little Miss listens questioningly. Miss continues earnestly.) I wanted silver shoes, and a lace dress with roses around the neck, and a chocolate cake with strawberry icing. Mommy said she'd make me– ... and she 'd give me silver shoes and a lace dress like a real princess wears ... and she didn't even come home at all. (Fighting back tears.) And Daddy won't be home - he's campaigning ... Stupid presents! [She slams a wooden box on the table]

L Miss: (Not noticing Miss's grief) What's that?

Miss: It's a jewelry box. (Brightening slightly) It's got a music box in it. {She opens it, and it plays a wistful children's tune: "Jesus Loves Me" comes to mind.}

L Miss: That's NICE!

Miss: It's from Daddy. And this is what was in it. {She rattles around in it and pulls out a necklace.}

L Miss: That's Beautiful! Isn't that beautiful, Andrew?

And: It's a beautiful pendant, Miss.

L Miss: That's Beautiful! With all those squirrelly-cues and holes... it looks like (groping for words) like ...a cloud!

Miss: It's made of ivorite.

L Miss: (still breathless with admiration) That's the most beautiful thing I ever saw! (Timidly) Do ... Do you think I might get one for my birthday?

Miss: (Suddenly bitter again – Misery loves company) No! Daddy won't stay, and Mommy won't come. Nobody will come to your birthday! Nobody loves you!

L Miss: (Not grasping what she has said, or what she means: she responds cheerfully) Andrew loves me! He plays with me!

Miss: He doesn't love you. He's not even real. He has to play with you when you tell him to.

L Miss: I love Andrew.

Miss: Silly! You can't love Andrew! He's a robot.

L Miss: He is not!

Miss: He is, so!

L Miss: Well, I don't care! (To Andrew) I love you, Andrew! Thiiis much!

And: (Stunned for a second, then moved.) Little Miss! (For it has just occurred to him that, apart from his construction and programming, he has an identity.) {He stoops to embrace her, and the music winds down to silence.}

Miss: (continuing) Nobody loves you, and ... and ... you're going to get goat bones for your birthday!

L Miss: Put me down, Andrew: I want to look at Missy's presents some more.

Miss: No! I'm taking 'em to my room! {as she gathers them up.} Daddy won't stay and Mommy won't come to your birthday either! {She starts to patter off.} Nobody loves you and you're going to get goat bones!

L Miss: (Beginning to fear it might be true) I will not!

Miss: {At a distance, going into the house} You're going to get goat bones! You're going to get goat bones! Nobody loves you and you're going to get goat bones! {The door closes behind her.}

L Miss: (Slowly wailing in childish despair)I don't want goat bones! I want a necklace! (A drawn-out moan) Ohhh ... Nobody loves me! Nobody loves me but you, Andrew!

And: Yes, Little Miss! (As much to himself as to her: the realization that he does care about her, and Miss, comes as a revelation. He no longer sounds dispassionate.) {He kneels down beside her.}

L Miss: (Still a little weepy, but thoughtful) When's my birthday?

And: (Hesitantly: ashamed at his ignorance, and distressed because she's unhappy) I don't know, Little Miss.

L Miss: (Absently) Daddy says my birthday will be when the tree in the garden looks like a golden fountain. When will that be?

And: (More ashamed) I don't know, Little Miss.

L Miss: (Wailing again) I don't want goat bones! I want a necklace! (Thinks for a second, then says:) You make me a necklace, Andrew.

And: (Happily) Yes, Little Miss!

L Miss: Oh, Thank You! {Throwing herself around his neck, as he embraces her. The conversation gradually fades out as they leave the patio.} Let's go find something to make it out of. I want it with little squirrelly-cues and holes and ...

{The voices fade up quickly}

L Miss: Andrew made it for me, Daddy!

Sir: Andrew made it! Oh, now! ... Where did you really get it?

L Miss: (indignantly) I don't tell lies! Andrew made it! Isn't it beautiful?

Sir: Of course you don't tell lies, sweetheart. (To Andrew) Did you make it?

And: Yes, Sir. (And volunteers an explanation:) There seemed to be some concern over Little Miss's birthday gifts ...

L Miss: (breaking in) Missy said I was going to get goat bones and that nobody loved me ...

And: ... so she ordered me to make the pendant.

L Miss: And I found the wood on that old broken chair in the basement, and I found a knife in the kitchen, and - and Missy gave me the ribbon! Isn't it pretty? Isn't it pretty, Daddy?

Sir: (Talking half to himself through the last questions; impressed with the workmanship) A kitchen knife, huh? We'll have to get you better equipment. (Aloud) Well, Andrew, I can see we've been wasting your talents. What did you copy the design from?

And: (Uncomfortable with the attention) It's just a geometric design that fit the grain of the wood. (Volunteers:) I enjoyed it, Sir.

Sir: Enjoyed? How do you mean "enjoyed"?

And: Well ... (groping for an explanation, then does so hesitantly) ... The circuits in my brain seem to flow more easily as I planned and executed the piece. (Uncertainly:) I have heard you apply the word to your own experiences that appeared to affect you in a similar manner.

Sir: ("Well, what a surprise!") Huh!

And: I enjoyed it, Sir. (With more enthusiasm) As a matter of fact, Miss would like ...

Sir: (cutting him off; to himself) Who'd have thought a robot could do this. This is amazing! (Suddenly, to Little Miss) Miss! Honey, what was that that Missy said to you?

L Miss: That I could have the ribbon. It was on the package she got from Charlene Feingold and ...

Sir: (cutting her off early in the second sentence) No ... No ... not that, sweetheart. Did she tell you I would give you goat bones for your birthday?

L Miss: (uncertainly) Well ...

Sir: Melissa Evangeline! ...

L Miss: (to herself) Uh-oh.

Sir: ... Come down here ... Now! (To Little Miss) You know I love my cherry-on-top, don't you?

L Miss: (subdued, and said more because he expects it than because she believes it) Yes, Daddy. (after a pause) But will you come to my party?

Sir: What party?

L Miss: Missy was sad you didn't come to her birthday party. She said you didn't love us and you wouldn't come to mine.

Sir: (aside) My poor cupcake!

L Miss: Do you still love Missy, Daddy? Do you still love Missy?

Sir: (remorsefully) Yes, sweetheart. Even when she jumps to vicious, hurtful ... reasonable conclusions. (With forced cheerfulness) Now, you and Andrew go outside. I want to talk to Missy.

L Miss: (Leading Andrew away) Come on, Andrew. (A thought occurs to her) Oh! (and she turns back.) Daddy, Missy wants a necklace, too. Can Andrew make her a necklace, too?

Sir: (firmly) No. She already has a necklace, and she'll have to be content with it. Now, (with forced cheerfulness) you two get out of here.

And: Yes, Sir. {As Little Miss patters off with him. The sound of the fountain is heard as the door opens and closes.}

L Miss: Andrew.

And: Yes, Little Miss?

L Miss: Missy's awfully sad.

And: (sadly) Yes, Little Miss.

L Miss: Andrew, make her something pretty.

And: But Sir said I was not to make her a necklace.

L Miss: Daddy said you couldn't make her a necklace. But you can make her something else. You ... (prodding him verbally) ... You make her something else.

And: Yes, Little Miss; I want to. (Another revelation: that a motivation for an action can come from himself) I want to!

{The monitor sounds of "realtime" fades up quickly}

And: (from the hospital bed, echoing) I want to!

Mag: What did you say?

And: I spoke? ... Nothing ... Memories.

Mag: Simon and I were just admiring your furniture. They're magnificent antiques. You don't see workmanship like this any more.

And: You won't, again. I made them. Right here.

Bill: This used to be his workshop.

Sim: I'd forgotten you used to be a woodcrafter. That was when you first became a client of Feingold and Charney, wasn't it?

And: Yes. It was just John Feingold, Esquire, then.

Mag: (aside to Simon) If it hadn't been for his (referring to Andrew's) business, that's what it would have stayed, eh?

Sim: (aside to Mag) Yeah, managing his affairs made the firm .. and made it rich. (Aloud, trying to make light) Woodworking was what got you your first fortune, wasn't it?

And: (A little wearily) It was all the same fortune: just different sources of revenue. But the Martins were generous and let me keep the profits.

Sim: We're sorry to lose such a good client.

And: The firm still has the trusts and foundations to manage. You're only losing a small portion of a client. But the firm has handled them well. A lot of people have benefitted from them.

Sim: You're the one who decided where the money went. Feingold and Charney may know the value of a dollar ...

And: (finishing a statement he's heard before) ... But I was always trying to test its use? (they all chuckle.) You used to complain about my philanthropies ...

Sim: ... They didn't all have to be anonymous ...

And: They might not have been accepted otherwise. And there are so many things that money can't buy. (Pausing thoughtfully) It can sometimes make them easier to obtain, though. That's where I wanted the money to go. For those things more valuable than dollars. (Beginning to drift a little) Things like Health ... Acceptance ... Freedom ... Freedom. (Fading into his memory.) That can only be given ...

{As the workshop fades out, the sound of Sir's spacious, old-fashioned, office fade up. He is speaking}

Sir: (Hale and irascible, now in his seventies) So, Andrew, what is it you want to do with all that money? U.S. Robots won't upgrade you any more - (laughing) - There's nothing left to upgrade. You're as perfect a robot as is humanly possible (chuckling at his joke)!

OL Miss: (Now in her 40s. Unimpressed, and aside to Andrew:) Oh boy! This isn't going to be easy.

And: (aside to her) If I waited a little longer, Little Miss, he might ...

OL Miss: (cutting him off) Nooo, it's now or never. Go for it.

And: (still somewhat intimidated at speaking with Sir) You are very kind to say so, Sir. But I do not want to use the money for an upgrade. I would ... (hesitating)

OL Miss: (aside to him) Go on.

And: (hastily) I would like to use it to buy my freedom.

Sir: (dumbfounded for a moment, but growing angry) You want to what?

And: I would like to buy my ...

Sir: (cutting him off) I heard you the first time! (To OL Miss - already suspecting the answer) Well, Mandy ... do you know what put that idiotic idea in his head?

OL Miss: (preparing for an argument) If you want the truth, you did.

Sir: (Indignant grunts of protest)

OL Miss: ... You have virtually every major work on personal liberty from the Enlightenment through when you retired from office: Thomas Payne, Abraham Lincoln, (ironically) Harriet Beecher Stowe...

Sir: [growling as she speaks] Oh, come on!

OL Miss: ... Andrew's read them all. And he's listened to our house guests. As senator, you've had quite a collection! He knows what he's asking. We've been talking about it for years. (Sir growls) If you must know, I put him up to speaking to you today.

Sir: (seething) Oh, you did! Did it ever occur to you that these works are about human rights, and he's a robot?

OL Miss: (growing angry herself) Let's take one issue at a time ...

Sir: (ignoring her) A robot can't be free, any more than a ... a bandsaw!

OL Miss: (Bristling) And I suppose the bandsaw made the chair you're sitting in, or the desk you're sitting at ... or the sculptures at the Art Institute and the Capital rotunda! Andrew is not his tools. He's the intelligence that guides them! That's why you need to pay attention to this request ...

Sir: (sighing in irritation)

OL Miss: ... That's part of the problem, Dad. You really don't know Andrew. You still want to think of him as a thing ...

Sir: (half to himself, and irritated at having his tolerance challenged) ... He is a thing - he's a robot.

OL Miss: He can't help his origins.

Sir: (irritated, but quieter) What does he think I'm going to do, sell him to Simon Legree?

(Old Little Miss starts to laugh in spite of herself, as Andrew says:)

And: (intimidated at his reaction) Oh, no, Sir; that's not ...

OL Miss: (still chuckling, through Andrew's speech) No, Dad, not Simon Legree.

Sir: How isn't he free now? He hasn't been ordered to do anything since before you were married, Mrs. Charney! ...

OL Miss: ... Oh, stop! (and sighs in irritation as he continues without pausing)...

Sir: (ignoring her) ... He's paid for his own upgrades, he comes and goes between the house and his workshop as he pleases. His bank account and investments are in his own name. He's got Feingold and Associates on retainer ... What does he want!

OL Miss: (aside to Andrew) Well?

And: As for my own personal liberty in your home is concerned, nothing at all. You have been extremely generous and I could not ask for anything more ...

Sir: (cutting him off) See! He doesn't know what he wants. So let's forget this nonsense.

OL Miss: (Smarting at his trivializing of the issue) Dad, this has nothing to do with the way you've treated him: don't take it so personally. Freedom isn't going to make him any less loyal ... in many ways, it'd just be a trick of words describing conditions that already exist ...

Sir: (echoing sarcastically) "A trick of words ..."

OL Miss: ... But civil law turns on "tricks of words". That's why it's terribly important that you do help him.

Sir: (to OL Miss) Can you give me one good reason why he should be free?

OL Miss: I'll give you two; (ironically) speaking of Simon Legree. You're not getting any younger, Dad, and eventually ... Well, Andrew doesn't know anything about probate, (almost an aside to Sir) but you and I do. If your will is contested, Andrew could be sold along with the rest of the estate. And U.S. Robots have been itching to – ah – shall we say "lay unholy hands" on him since you told them about his making my necklace. They'd give a fortune to vivisect ...

Sir: ... (echoing with a snort) Vivisect? ...

OL Miss: ... him. For his own protection, he needs to be his own master.

Sir: (growling quietly) I've left him to you.

OL Miss: And I couldn't pay the inheritance tax.

Sir: (Beginning to understand, but not liking it) What's your other reason?

OL Miss: (Thoughtfully) Well ... Over the past forty-odd years, Andrew has been at various times big brother, (chuckling thoughtfully) little brother, grandfather, eccentric uncle, maiden aunt, friend, confidant ... (abruptly sober) and mother and father.

Sir: (grumbles defensively)

OL Miss: Oh ... I'm not criticizing - Melissa and I knew you had to do what you had to do - but we never liked it. And after Mother left for good, and you got into national politics ... Well, there were times we needed our daddy. And how much worse off your Cupcake and your Cherry-On-Top would have been if Andrew hadn't been there to stand in for you. (Very quietly) You told him to keep an eye on your best girls. He may not have been as prepared as you, but he's done that as earnestly as you have yourself. He deserves that recognition.

Sir: ("What recognition?") What?

OL Miss: That he isn't part of the Martin estate. He's part of the Martin family.

Sir: (Subdued, after a thoughtful pause) I can't free him. Only the law can declare him free. (Growing hostile and sarcastic) And I don't think the courts'll be interested in granting rights to a synthetic foster-brother!

OL Miss: (Losing patience) Oh, Dad! He's so much a thing to you that you can't even get angry with him! Stop yelling at me!

Sir: (not paying attention) It'd take years to drag through the courts, and eat up his whole fortune in legal fees! And he'd still probably lose! Is it worth losing everything over a "trick of words"?

OL Miss: (exasperated) W'l why don't you ask him!

Sir: (To Andrew, harshly) Well?

And: (Completely intimidated, but determined) Yes, Sir. A fortune has no value without freedom. Even the chance for it is worth everything. (Gaining courage) I have never been treated as a slave, but I nevertheless do not wish to be one. (Very timidly) Even yours.

Sir: You just said you haven't been treated like a slave. I've heard a lot from Mandy, but what would "freedom" give you that you haven't already got?

And: (humbly) Freedom of obedience.

Sir: (starting to remonstrate) Now what on earth is that supposed to mean?

And: (almost cutting him off) By rules of programming and ownership, I am compelled to obey the orders of the Martin family. Little Miss's reasons are very fine, but freedom would allow me to obey you without compulsion. To do so because I wish to obey you.

(Sir and O L Miss are momentarily stunned)

OL Miss: (Subdued with amazement) Good heavens. I never thought of that.

Sir: (immediately following her) You want to be free so you can be a willing slave? ...

OL Miss: (cutting in) Dad ...

Sir: ... That doesn't even make ...

OL Miss: ... Dad! ...

Sir: ... sense! (To OL Miss) What!

OL Miss: (Whispering something to him. All that can be heard is the sound of whispering, but the words are "If ye love me, keep my commandments"6)

Sir: Wha ...! (her meaning dawns on him, and unnerves him) What? But ... But he can't!

OL Miss: (gently) He just told you he does.

Sir: But he's ...

OL Miss: Synthetic doesn't always mean imitation.

Sir: (Now also subdued with amazement) Good heavens. (After a thoughtful pause) Oh, get out of here, you two! I've got to think about this! {The two hurry out as OL Miss whispers to Andrew:}

OL Miss: You did it! {The door closes behind them.}

And: (Unnerved by the strain of the debate. The words come with effort) I have hurt him. I must not allow ... to come to harm ...

OL Miss: (quickly) You haven't harmed him, Andrew. Certainly not physically. And any injury to his pride he did himself.

And: (recovering) You think not?

OL Miss: And if he chooses to be offended by a legitimate - (suddenly gentle and affectionate) and unselfish - request for freedom, that's his loss. (With a chuckle) Have a hug!

And: (In the embrace) You were a wonderful advocate.

OL Miss: (Still chuckling) It was your reason that convinced him. And he'll be able to convince the courts. Feingold and Associates couldn't do any better.

And: (After a pause) What did you whisper to him?

OL Miss: (hesitates) "If ye love me, keep my commandments" ... (regretfully) And that's also his loss, that he doesn't know you any better. (Sighs deeply) My poor Andrew. I'm afraid you're in for a rough time.

And: (surprised) Why?

OL Miss: (Sighing) If even Dad couldn't tell ... (aloud) You're going to be spending the rest of your life having to convince people you're real.

Sir: {Through the door} Mandy!

OL Miss: But this is a good step. (To Sir) What! {Opening the door, and walking toward him.}

Sir: {At a distance} What's Feingold's number?

OL Miss: {At a distance} It's on the auto dialer. {Pressing a phone button} There. {Dialing sound}

Sir: {At a distance}... What did you say? ... Well get the mush out of your mouth! (OL Miss laughs) This is Gerald Martin. I want to speak to Charlene Feingold ... Then page her. {Fading out} I have to speak to her now!

{The phone rings at a distance in "realtime"}

And: (in "realtime") She called back quickly!

Mag: Who did?

And: Charlene Fein - oh. (realizes where he is)

Mag: (gently) Starting to wander?

And: A little, I guess. This place is so full of memories. Can't keep them out.

Mag: (chuckles)

Bill: Mr. Martin? That was Senator Chee. She's on her way, and should be here within the hour.

And: Good. I do so want to see her before ... (a little surprised) I've heard that before ...

Sim: ... He's drifting again ...

And: I do so want to see ...

{His voice fades and blends with OL Miss's in his memory. They are walking quickly down a hall in the Martin house.}

OL Miss: (now in her 50s) He does so want to see you ... before it's too late.

And: (anxiously) I had no idea he was so ill.

OL Miss: He probably wasn't sure himself. It came on quickly. {They open a door, and an impulse monitor can be heard softly in the background.} But he asked specifically for you.

Sir: {fading up as they approach} Oh stop fussing with me, George. I'm dying, not crippled. Now get out of here; I want to talk to your mother and Andrew. {His footsteps fade quickly.} You've got a good kid there, Mandy.

OL Miss: (choking out a strained laugh in spite of herself) I like him. Charlene Feingold's firm just made him a partner. It's Feingold and Charney now.

Sir: Looks like you have another advocate, Andrew.

And: (Wanting to say something comforting, but not knowing what) Yes, Sir. ... How do you feel?

Sir: With my fingers. ...

OL Miss: (groaning) Oh, Dad!

Sir: ... About the way I expected. (Chuckling ironically) That's the great joke of life: You can't prove you've got it until you lose it. "Life's perhaps the only riddle that we shrink from giving up!"7 (With forced cheerfulness) But that's something you'll never have to worry about, Andrew. {Shifting in the bed} I just wanted to tell you I'm proud of you. I'm glad you wanted to be free; and when the ruling was upheld, I couldn't have been prouder if you had been my own son.

And: (greatly moved) I would never have been free if it hadn't been for you.

Sir: (getting weaker) I have an order for you ...

And: (anxiously) Yes, Sir?

Sir: Same as the first. Keep an eye on my - (correcting himself) - on your family.

And: I will, Sir!

Sir: (weakly) But I think I'll rest now. Shut the door when you go. {The monitor has quietly slowed, and after a moment, hums a flat line.}

And: Sir?

OL Miss: Dad? ... Daddy? ... (a drawn-out) Ohhh (that stifles a sob). No, I'm all right, Andrew. It just comes as a shock, even when you're expecting it. {Walking toward the door} But he was proud of you. He loved Missy and me - he had to as his children - but you he was proud of: and he couldn't pay a higher compliment. {Stops and opens the door} Come in, George. You ought to see what death looks like. So you don't have to be afraid of it.

{A door opens and closes, and hushed steps cross the floor}

Bill: Mr. Martin? {The sound of the "realtime" monitor fades up quickly)

And: Oh, I though you were George. Li-Hsing is here, isn't she.

Bill: Yes ...

And: (to Mag and Sim) I'd like to speak to her alone. Do you mind?

Sim & Mag: (Ad lib) Oh, no. Not at all. {As they step from the room.}

Che: {Fading in as they enter that room} (She is a petite woman in her late fifties. She speaks a little desperately) Isn't there anything we can do?

Bill: Nothing. All that's left is to make him comfortable ...

Che: (gasps a little sob)

Bill: ... He'd like to see you alone.

Sim: (stopping her momentarily) He's been wandering a trifle. Just so you know.

Che: Thanks. {The door opens} Mr. Martin? {Her voice fades as the door closes behind her.}

Sim: (after a pause) I've never been to his house before. It's like - like visiting a museum.

Mag: It's the oldest house I've ever been in. And packed with two centuries of memories.

Sim: Alvin, there's something I've wanted to ask you for years. (Mag listens attentively) You understand robot design ... Why? Why did he turn out like this? How was he different from the other robots of his model type?

Mag: Hm. (Revealing a confidence) When I took over U.S. Robots - (chuckling a little) about sixty years ago - one of the first things I did was look at the specs and reports on that line. And you know what I found? That there was nothing different about him. Oh, there were some minor variables in the positronic brain pathways, but all of them had variables. No. There was nothing unique about him.

Bill: So they all could have been Andrew Martins?

Mag: Yes. He was just the only one who had - I guess the opportunity.

Bill: (a little grimly) And isn't that a pity.

Sim: (in amazement) That he did?

Bill: That they didn't.

Sim & Mag: (more or less agreeing with him:) Ummm.

Mag: (after a pause) His history of robots is fascinating ...

Sim: I would like to have read ... {He is cut off by the door opening.}

Che: Come in. {They "tiptoe" across the room.}

Sim: (whispering to Chee as they walk) What did he say?

Che: (whispering) Nothing you couldn't have heard. Just thanking me for my help. In the face of this, my efforts seem so pitifully inadequate.

Mag: (To Andrew) How do you feel?

And: (suddenly playful) If I said "with my fingers", you'd probably fall over ... (All burst out laughing in spite of themselves) ... I was right.

Mag: I don't believe you said that!

And: (serious again) I feel about the same.

Sim: You know, we were just talking about your book. It's too bad you didn't do more writing.

And: There were journal articles ...

Sim: No, no. I mean histories ... like, maybe your own.

And: An autobiography, hm? I though about it. (Grimly) But then I started recalling so many things ... that I'd prefer to forget.

Che: People weren't very kind.

And: (quietly) No. You can't legislate kindness. And the only way to make people obey the law is to make them want to obey it. There weren't many at first who ... wanted to. (Dismissing it) Oh, but that was over a century ago. And I suppose that's how I got involved in synthetic organ development.

Che: (aside) Beauty from ashes.

And: (fading out) It was in this very room, too ...

{"Realtime" fades into the workroom of a century earlier. It is nearly empty, and Missy's music box is playing faintly and somewhat wheezily. It gradually runs out.}

Paul: Andrew? Anybody home? Oh! (spotting him in the room) Sorry I walked right in. I knocked but didn't get an answer. Wasn't sure you were here. {Paul is an energetic "sport", in his mid-forties}

And: (as if awaking from a dream) I was just sitting here, thinking. Hello, Paul.

Paul: What's that? (Referring to the music box.) It looks like it's a hundred years old!

And: The movement's ninety. (Half to himself, wistfully) It doesn't seem like ninety years since... (Aloud) It's a music box that belonged to your great-aunt. When the original box broke, I made a new one. It's only about sixty. {The box is gently closed,}

Paul: (Looking around the room, not paying attention) It's been years since I've been in your workshop. (Chuckling and shaking his head) Oh, I had some good times out here. But the room doesn't seem like itself without the wood shavings on the floor, or that smell of varnish. It feels so out-of-place.

And: (Half to himself) I was feeling rather out-of-place, myself.

Paul: (Not noticing) If it hadn't been for you, I would never have learned to drive a nail straight. Not that we lawyers "nail" anything, except figuratively! (laughing a little at his joke.) Remember that wooden boat you helped me make? (Chuckling) I sure made a mess of it, but I was so proud of it. I wonder whatever happened to it. Humph (sniffs). Probably got pitched.

And: It's there on the shelf.

Paul: W'l! (Sentimentally) Why you old softie!

And: Softie?

Paul: Skip it. You kept it all this time. (Fondly) Huh! Who made the others?

And: (Affectionately) You weren't the first child to build things out here. A couple of those are George's - (correcting himself) your father's - one is your great-aunt's, and your grandmother made the two on the end.

Paul: It's hard to believe she was ever a little girl. Poor funny ol' Grandma! She sure was a character! Oh, well, nobody lives forever. Except maybe ... - never mind.

And: (Barely above a whisper) Yes. (Louder) Little Miss was a good friend. (Aloud) And it's partly because of her I wanted to see you. My book is nearly done.

Paul: Good! What does the publisher think?

And: He's delighted. But I'm afraid it's because he thinks a history of robots by a robot will be a best-seller, rather than because of its quality.

Paul: Figures.

And: (Downplaying the concern) But that doesn't bother me. Hm. I've been thinking about this for a long time, but didn't want to proceed until after Little - (correcting himself) your grandmother - was gone. She would have understood ... but she never needed this kind of assurance. Other humans will ... (half to himself) And maybe I do myself now.

Paul: What are you getting at?

And: While doing research for my book, I learned U.S. Robots briefly manufactured a line of robots with an organic, humanoid, body. But it was discontinued because market surveys showed customers wouldn't buy robots that looked so human. But the company still has the patents and specifications.

Paul: (Guessing what he's leading up to) Uh-huh.

And: I am a free robot. But I am still subject to contempt and humiliation in public, in spite of the laws - (fondly) your father worked so hard to enact ...

Paul: ... You paid for the legal action ...

And: Now, I can't change the way robots appear to the public. But I can change the way I appear to the public. (He pauses.) I want to look like a man.

Paul: (doesn't say anything.)

And: You don't approve of the idea.

Paul: I didn't say that. I was just thinking of the obstacles.

And: According to U.S. Robot's current customer policy, owners of robots more than twenty-five years old are entitled to - they're required to take - a replacement unit ...

Paul: (Playfully) ... To avoid any more challenges from liberated artists?

And: (Amused himself) I expect you're right. I have tried to make an appointment with the head of the corporation on the matter of replacement, but without success.

Paul: (Snorting) W'l that doesn't surprise you! They didn't cooperate on your book, either.

And: No. And this is where I need your help.

Paul: Shoot.

And: Hm?

Paul: Tell me your plan.

And: You, as a representative of Feingold and Charney, can make the appointment. After the firm's civil action for robot rights, you are certain to get their attention. {Gradually fading out} Then we present to the director ...

{The sounds of the plush office of the director of U.S. Robots fades in.}

Paul: (Fading up) On the contrary, the positronic brain of Andrew Martin owns the obsolete body of the robot Andrew. What my client is requesting is that robot body be replaced with one from your android line.

Dir: (coldly) We don't manufacture that line any more.

Paul: But you can manufacture one, and my client is prepared to pay any reasonable cost for a body of that type. Any reasonable cost.

Dir: Suppose we refuse?

Paul: Then my client is prepared to take civil action against the corporation for breach of contract. And the firm of Feingold and Charney is prepared to file a class-action suit against the corporation for failure to respect the laws regarding harm and mental cruelty to robots. My client has the time and the money to pursue such suits. Has U.S. Robots the resources to fight cases they are sure to lose?

Dir: (grumbles inarticulately)

Paul: Of course, all this unpleasantness can be avoided by agreeing to my client's simple terms: he wants to exchange his metal body for an android one, at whatever reasonable charges the custom order might incur. What do you think?

Dir: (Extremely irritated) I think you got your reasoning out of a Gilbert and Sullivan opera! (Sighing) But I also think you've got us over a barrel. Besides (thoughtfully), It would give us a chance to ...

Paul: (quickly) My client wishes to remind you that, if the slightest damage is done to his brain pathways, the firm of Feingold and Charney is prepared to sue U.S. Robots for malpractice and criminal assault, as well as breach of contract. Do we understand each other?

Dir: (Accedes with a growl) Ahhh.

Paul: Do you agree to these terms?

Dir: (Accedes with another growl) Ahhh. Does your client agree to them?

Paul: Andrew?

And: I ... I ... (Speaking with difficulty in response to this corporate "blackmail")

Paul: (quickly, and aside to Andrew) Through me, you realize, you have embarrassed this man, and threatened him with public humiliation and financial harm ...

OL Miss: (Fading quickly into Andrew's memory) You haven't harmed him, Andrew. Certainly not physically. And any injury to his pride {fades out} he did himself.

And: (Speaking with an effort as he listens to her, aside to Paul) I haven't harmed him physically. Not physically. (Aloud) I agree to the terms.

{The office fades rapidly, and the recovery room fades up}

Paul: (Concerned) How do you feel?

And: (With an effort - his voice no longer sounds "processed"8) Strange! Getting ... this ... used ... (Amused and pleased) This body takes getting used to!

Paul: How's your brain? Can you tell? Oh, if they've scrambled anything, what a lawsuit we'll bring ...

And: No ... No. Nothing wrong. Control is still unfamiliar. That's all.

Paul: ("I see") Um.

And: I've been thinking ... What I want to do now.

Paul: Gonna write another book?

And: (His speech becomes less labored) Maybe. I could go back to woodworking. But I've lived too long for any one career. I'd like to do something different. I was th-thi-thinking of designing devices that can duplicate the function of human organs.

Paul: We've got such things now.

And: But not ones that can function as replacements.

Paul: You want to make synthetic human organs? (Thinking of the obstacles.) You don't know anything about biology or anatomy.

And: I can learn. Time is no issue to me.

Paul: I guess not. Hm. (Amused) Is it just possible that you want to do more than look like a man?

And: Your grandmother used to say it was the spirit that made the man. But my experience has been that people need to see something more concrete. (Adding hastily:) But such devices that function in an android would certainly benefit humans with failing organs.

Paul. Hm. Well, you've succeeded brilliantly at everything you've set your mind to. I imagine you'll make a success of this, too. (A little regretfully) I just wish I could be around long enough to benefit.

And: Paul!

Paul: These things often skip generations. Grandma and Dad didn't have it, but I remember you telling me my great-grandfather did. Well, so have I.

And: (horrified) Oh, Paul!

Paul: (shrugging) "All must sip the cup of sorrow, I today and thou tomorrow."9 (Cheerfully) Oh, now! I still have a few years yet - it's not the end of the world. (A little regretfully) Just the end of the Martin family. Except for you.

And: (Losing speech control, as at the beginning of the scene) I... I...

Paul: And now I've upset you. I'm sorry I mentioned it. {Rising to go} I'll bring you some biology books the next time I come. {He starts to walk out}

And: (Calling hesitantly after him) Paul? {He stops and turns} How ... look ... what ...

Paul: (Fondly) I really have upset you! (Chuckling) I'll bring a mirror, too. {Opening the door} (At a distance, fondly:) You have a nice face.

{The recovery room sounds fade quickly into realtime}

And: (in realtime, without fading in) Poor Paul - I couldn't help you much then, could I?

Che: (softly) What are you thinking about?

And: (regretfully) Someone born too soon to have benefitted from my inventions... (Aloud) And what a bad host I am. Would any of you like anything while ... you're waiting?

Bill: (Attempting to relieve the awkwardness all feel) There's coffee in the laboratory, Mr. Martin.

Sim: I could do with some coffee. How 'bout you, Alvin?

Mag: Sure.

Bill: Senator?

Che: Thanks, but I'd rather stay here.

And: Could you see to them, Bill? ...

Bill: ... This way, gentlemen. ...

And: ... Thank you.

{The three cross the room, and a door opens and closes behind them. The room is intimate and hollowly "kitchen-y".}

Bill: (Explaining) He hasn't used this as a laboratory in years, but this is where he began his research. How do you take it? {pouring the coffee}

Sim: Black is fine.

Mag: Sugar, but I can do it.

Bill: Help yourself to ... {They seat themselves at a table as a phone rings} Excuse me, gentlemen. {He steps away}

Sim: (After a pause) It's a hard thing to watch.

Mag: Yeah. (pause) Coffee's good.

Sim: Uh-huh. (finally bursting out) Why doesn't he at least try to fight it! ... To watch him just ... fade away like this!

Mag: It sounds like you're losing more than a client ... too.

Sim: Yeh. The rightest one I ever had. I was his personal attorney for about forty years. And I wasted almost half that time thinking of him just a personified corporation ... or as ... (hesitates to complete the idea)

Mag: (amused) A robot that didn't know its place? (They both chuckle softly) You weren't the only one. When I negotiated U.S. Robots' deal to manufacture his devices ... (trailing off with a sniff, shaking his head.)

Sim: But then one day I realized that he did know his place: and all he was trying to do was get to it. I'm glad he got there finally – and I'm proud to have been part of it – but ... he's had so little time to enjoy it.

Mag: Two hundred years is a long time. Even half that time is long – and at my age I should know. But you're right. It's no good if you can't enjoy it. (Ironically) And I should know that, too.

Sim: (After a pause) How do you feel?

Mag: With my fingers ("Don't ask"). (They both laugh)

Sim: It seems he's always been here. And been here. Even his clinic used to be the old Martin house. So many memories for him. {Johnstone's footsteps return} ... (unhappily) He'll be a memory himself, too soon. (To Johnstone) Anything serious?

Bill: In a way, yes. Roger Bailey called, and would like to see him. I took the liberty of inviting him.

Sim: He's in no condition for visitors!

Bill: But I think he'll want to see Roger. (Sim and Mag start to protest, and Johnstone continues...) About twenty-five years ago, Mr. Martin had been working on what would have been his greatest achievement. As you know, Mr. Martin's synthetic organs have been able to save many lives, both individually and severally. But occasionally a case would come along in which the condition of body as a whole had deteriorated to the point that attaching them was impossible – burn victims, for instance. So Mr. Martin was attempting to perfect a full complement of devices that would render the condition of the patient's original body immaterial.

Sim (concurrent): Huh? ...

Mag (concurrent): A complete synthetic body ...

Sim(concurrent): ... Oh.

Mag (concurrent): ...That's not so startling. His own body is completely synthetic.

Bill: Yes. But the patients for which this body was to be developed were children. {His listeners draw breath sharply.} They weren't prepared for an adult-sized transplant; and the monetary cost of multiple transplants, not to mention the trauma to the brain, was prohibitive. So he was developing a device complement that could mature with the child.

Sim: A synthetic body that could grow up! But you said he was working on it. Did he quit?

Bill: Yes ...

Sim: (regretfully) Because it was more than science could duplicate ...

Bill: ... Because he finished it.

Mag & Sim: What! {their cups clatter on the table}

Bill: A complete synthetic body that could mature to adulthood.

Sim: (Nearly speechless with amazement) But ... How!

Bill: Growth takes place in response to age and brain activity. He used to be an artist: based on a few family photographs, he could make the complement look like the product of heredity - And beyond that (a little wryly) it's a corporate secret. His own body is this type. (With some irony) You know he never delivers products he doesn't use himself.

Mag: (Surprised, but not offended) He never said anything about this to me!

Bill: Originally, he had planned to announce his success publicly after the first transplant. But suddenly he changed his mind. The device complement has been virtually a secret ever since.

Mag: But ... A synthetic body of that type would be worth a fortune!

Bill: (coldly) Mr. Martin is not interested in money.

Sim: (rhetorically) Why wouldn't he want anyone to know about it? (Thoughtfully) Twenty-five years ago would have been about the time he began his legal battle for humanity ...

Bill: I did ask him once. He said if things went well - I believe he was referring to the lawsuits - it wouldn't matter; and if not, that silence would best protect their rights.

Mag: Their? How many of these transplants have been performed?

Bill: I know of twenty-eight. There may be others.

Sim: How could something like that be kept a secret? The insurance companies would know when they got the bill ...

Bill: The insurance companies never got a bill. Mr. Martin always paid for them himself. (Sim and Mag mutter in amazement) Just another of his anonymous philanthropies.

Mag: That first transplant ... (hesitantly) How did it turn out?

Bill: We'll soon know: Roger Bailey was the first transplant. Excuse me.

{The door opens and closes, and the sound of the monitor grows louder as he approaches the bed.}

Bill: Mr. Martin? Roger Bailey just called. He would like to see you. Do you feel able?

And: (weakly, but with animation) Roger Bailey! Of course I want to see him ...

Che: (sotto voce) Who's Roger Bailey?

And: ... I haven't seen him in twenty-five years ... And a day hasn't passed when I haven't thought of him ... Little Roger ...

{As he speaks, the room's sounds fade into those of a bright and airy recovery room. The sound fades up under the conversation.}

And: Do you feel that?

Rog: (He is about five years old) Uh-huh.

And: And that?

Rog: (giggles) It tickles!

And: (very pleased) Now, how many fingers do you see?

Rog: Seven!

And: (concerned) Seven? (to himself) There must be something wrong.

Mother: Count 'em out loud, honey.

Rog: One, two, nine, seven.

Mother: (hastily) He gets his numbers mixed up sometimes.

And: (chuckling at having outsmarted himself) I see. How do you feel, Roger?

Rog: I feel funny!

And: (immediately concerned) In what way?

Rog: Nothing hurts now.

And: (charmed, and again amused at having outsmarted himself) That's the way it's supposed to be. This body was made just special for you so you wouldn't have to hurt any more.

Rog: All new?

And: All new.

Rog: Doesn't anyone else have one?

And: (debating) Well, ... (conspiratorially) You know what?

Rog: (whispers) What?

And: (whispers) I do!

Rog: (whispers) You do?

And: Uh-huh.

Rog: That's good. I wouldn't want to be the only one.

And: (gently ironic) Yeah. It isn't much fun to be "only".

Rog: (hesitating a little, then asking uncertainly) Is it pretend?

And: Are you pretend?

Rog: (contemptuously) Nooo! I'm real!

And: It's just as real as you are. And that body's going to help you grow up into a big, strong man.

Rog: Big as you?

And: Probably bigger.

Rog: Wow! When? When will I be bigger than you?

And: Ohhh, a long time yet. But let's work on getting you home first.

Rog: When! When can I go home?

And: Now, now, lie still. If all goes well, in about four months.

Rog: How long is that?

And: It's ... (catching himself: he hears faintly in his memory:)

L Miss: (Fading up) Daddy says when the tree in the garden (fading out) looks like a...

And: ... Do you see that tree out there in the garden? That's a maple tree.

Rog: Like syrup? Like for pancakes?

And: Uh-huh. The leaves are pretty green now, aren't they?

Rog: Yeah. I like that color.

And: So do I. But pretty soon they're going to change to red and yellow, and the tree'll look like a great big golden fountain. (Confidentially) If you do what your mother, and the doctors, and the therapists tell you, you'll be able to run in the leaves. And that's when you'll go home. (Aloud) So you work hard; and keep watching that tree.

Rog: (Awed) Wow. (Suddenly) Will it stay gold?

And: (Quietly) You've never been outdoors, have you?

Rog: (Brightly) Uh-uh. I've been too sick.

And: (Softly, as if telling a bedtime story) Noo. The leaves'll turn gold ... and brown, and fall off. And the winter comes, and the tree will look all cold and dead in the snow ...

{Roger is gradually snuggled down in the bed and tucked in.}

Rog: Poor tree.

And: ... But then the spring comes. And the air is warm, and the tree gets new leaves .. and pretty soon it's all green and beautiful again.

Rog: (Awed) Does it always do that?

And: Hasn't failed yet. I've been watching.

Rog: How many times has it done that? How many times have you watched it?

And: Oh, lots!

Rog: A hundred?

And: Pretty near. (To himself) Pretty near a hundred and seventy-five! (Aloud) But now you have to get some rest.

Rog: (Suddenly) I wanna give you a hug!

And & Mother: (Ad lib) Oh, Oh, wait, Roger; Now now now ...

And: ... You've got to lie still yet. You and your body are still getting used to each other. (Confidentially) But there's nothing I like better than hugs. (Thinks a moment) Here. When that tree looks like a golden fountain, and you're running in the leaves, I'll come back and you can give it to me then. How's that?

Rog: Okay! You won't forget?

And: (Fondly) I won't forget. Now you get some rest.

Rog: (Pleased) Okay ... Good-bye!

And: (Fondly) Good-bye, Roger.

{Andrew's footsteps are heard crossing the laminate floor. They slow to a stop as Roger is heard at a distance:}

Rog: He's a nice man, Mommy.

Mother: He's not really a man, honey. Now ...

{Andrew's footsteps hasten away.}

Mother: ... (fading into the distance) you get some sleep.

{The recovery room sounds fade into those of the law offices of Feingold and Charney. Andrew is speaking, and fades in with them.}

And: (Passionately) I control a staff of more than twenty doctors and researchers, as many robot surgeons and medical assistants, who defer to me as to the humans. Thousands of people are alive today because of devices of my design. My body is virtually identical with that of unquestioned humans living today. Then why am I not a human being?

Sim: (In his late forties now - trying to soothe him) Andrew, if you look like one and if you're treated like one, you are, de facto, a human being.

And: Is that why I'm introduced as Andrew Martin, the Sesquicentennial Robot? Is that why they hesitate before so much as shaking my hand? Is that ...

Mother: (In Andrew's memory) He's not really a man, honey.

And: ... Oh, forget it! I want to be a human de jure. To be one legally!

Sim: {Shifting at his desk} Now that's going to be a problem. Only the World Legislature would have the authority to grant such a - a designation. They're going to be hard to convince. And even if the delegates are convinced, they still have to answer to their constituents. And public opinion is going to run hard against granting human status to a robot.

And: (Hard and determined) Then we have a lot of work to do, don't we? To start with, get me an appointment with the chairman of the Science and Technology Committee. That's Senator Li-Hsing Chee, isn't it?

Sim: With your notoriety, you hardly need me to ...

And: (cutting him off) You get me the appointment! The chairman needs to understand that Feingold and Charney is prepared to pursue this matter in courts on every level if necessary.

Sim: (Starting to protest) Oh, now, hold ...

And: (Cutting him off cold) Over the last hundred and seventy-five years, it has been the cases involving me that "made" this firm. I pay the largest retainer of any of your clients; and it's my inventions that have made this firm wealthy. Today I'm calling in those favors!

Sim: (Vanquished and a little sullen) It'll take time to get the right verdicts in the right courts. You'll have to be patient.

And: (With measured impatience) I have an infinite supply of patience. But get started now.

Sim: {Picking up the phone} I'll call Senator Chee. {Dropping it back on the receiver} But first tell me why you're so angry.

And: (Suddenly realizing he's been behaving like a bully) I'm ... I'm not angry. (Which is _literally_ true: he's hurt.)

Sim: Then I don't want to be there when you are. You frighten me now.

And: (Sadly) I'm sorry. It's just ... I've done so much for humanity, and have received so little in return.

Sim: But your fortune ...

And: I don't mean assets, and I don't mean glory or notoriety, either. I mean other, intangible forms of gratitude.

Sim: (Gently) You talk as if you've been trying to buy off humanity.

And: That's not it. (Wearily) It's more like ... well ... You're married, aren't you?

Sim: Yeah.

And: Before you were married, you gave her things and did things for her, didn't you?

Sim: Sure!

And: Why?

Sim: To show her I loved her ... That I wanted her ... To show her that ... (understands the meaning of the illustration) ... that I was worth having.

And: (Almost as if talking to himself) Over the years, I've tried to do things to show humanity that I was worth having. But today I realized it hasn't done any good. (choking a little) And I've nothing greater left to give.

Sim: (Softly, gently) What is it you expect to gain by being human?

And: Ohhh ... (thoughtfully10) ... To have my motives and actions judged on their merits, instead of dismissed as the result of programming. To be thought fit to thank. To have my company welcomed, instead of my presence tolerated. To be - regarded. . . (Passionately) Instead of being regarded as some talented freak of technology.

Sim: (After a pause, very gently) Do you think that forcing the issue will bring this about?

And: (Without much hope, sighing) I don't know. (Suddenly very small and very alone) But I've tried everything else.

Sim: (Moved to sympathy) I'll call Senator Chee.

Che: (Suddenly) Dr. Johnstone! {Realtime fades in quickly. Andrew's breathing is ragged.}

And: (Recalled to the present) Uh ... oh.

Che: Are you in pain?

And: No ... not physically. I'm all right, Bill. Thanks. {His breathing grows easier.}

Bill: You're sure ...

And: ("Yes") Uhm. Bill?

Bill: Yes, sir?

And: I don't know if I've told you, but I'm glad to have had you as my assistant. I'm glad you'll be taking over the management of the clinic.

Bill: You've told me more times than you know, Mr. Martin. {He retires.}

And: (to Chee) I know I've told you how grateful I am. On account of me you lost your office ...

Che: I've been offered an ambassadorship. Even if I hadn't, it wasn't any great loss.

And: You've been a good friend. And you'll be a good ambassador. You're a wise woman. You helped me understand ... though it took nearly twenty-five years ...

{As he speaks, his voice blends with that of Senator Chee in his memory, and fades away. Her offices are sparsely furnished and businesslike.}

Che: It took nearly twenty-five years, but you're all but achieved victory, Mr. Martin.

And: I'm grateful for your loyalty. It nearly cost you several elections, didn't it?

Che: (Grimly) It may cost me this one. But thirty years in the legislature is long enough. Your law firm wasn't idle, either.

And: No. (Amused) They said they'd fight in every court, and that's nearly what they had to do.

Che: But the case law is in place: that no number of prosthetic devices negate a person's human rights. The public acts to that effect are certain to pass in the next session.

And: (Suddenly uneasy) But you're leading up to something.

Che: (Uncomfortably) Yes. While all these efforts have gone to strengthen human rights, they can't apply to your case.

And: (Stunned) Wha..!

Che: They all depend on the individual's human origins. And, well, after all, you are unquestionably - synthetic.

And: (Crushed) Yes. (A little desperate) But couldn't the legislature pass a designation in spite of my origins? I'm the only one of my kind. I'm the only one there ever will be.

Che: They could - they could designate a statute human if they chose - but that wouldn't make people accept it as one. And "ever" is a long time. To declare a robot a human would set a dangerous precedent. The legislature may one day find itself called upon to confer humanity on other robots.

And: (Softly and sadly) Would that really be so terrible?

Che: For myself, I'm delighted to accept you as a man now, Mr. Martin, but the fact of the matter is, although the legislature has the authority, they haven't the public support to vote in favor of the act.

And: (Sighs deeply)

Che: So, while the "promised land" is in sight, one might say; the Jordan River can't be crossed.

And: (After a pause - painfully) Can you tell me what it is that still separates me from the rest of humanity?

Che: I've been pondering that question myself for a number of years now. And I've finally concluded that the problem is your brain.

And: My brain! What's wrong with it?

Che: There's nothing wrong with it. That's the trouble. Your brain has been functioning with no noticeable deterioration for nearly two hundred years ...

And: Yes!

Che: ... and it can continue to function at that level indefinitely.

And: So far as I know, yes.

Che: A human brain, on the other hand, begins to deteriorate from almost the moment of birth. Prosthetic or synthetic devices may be able to prolong the life of the human body, but no number of devices can prolong indefinitely the life of the human brain. (She pauses while Andrew absorbs the truth.) Since people are only mortal, after all, they resent what amounts to immortality in others. And that's the stumbling block.

And: (sadly) I see. "What man can live and not see death?"11

Che: My poor Andrew. That's the ... {As she speaks, Andrew hears in his mind Sir's voice fading in and speaking over her voice

Che & Sir: ... great joke of life: you can't prove you've got it until you lose it.

And & Sir: (Andrew's voice under Sir's, quietly) "Life's perhaps the only riddle that we shrink from giving up" ...

Sir: (Continuing alone, as Andrew listens) But that's something you'll never have to worry about, Andrew.

Che: (under Sir's speech) What did you say? Mr. Martin?

And: (Recalled to the action) Uh - just an old truth from an old song. (Aside) But it appears Sir was mistaken!

{Fading rapidly into realtime}

And: (Faintly) Bill. (Louder, with alarm) Bill!

{The monitor changes pace, and his footsteps rush to the bedside}

Che: What's wrong?

Bill: (to Che) You'd better wait in the laboratory.

Che: (Weakly) Yes. {She stumbles across the room to the laboratory and enters.)

Sim & Mag: (Ad lib) What's wrong? What happened? {Rising}

Che: (Starting to lose control) Oh, he's bad! But Dr. Johnstone's with him now. {They start to move their chairs to go} No, don't go yet. He'll ... oh! (sobs)

Sim: Here, sit down. {A chair is placed for her}

Mag: Have some ...?

Che: (recovering) No, thank you. Just let me sit ... Oh, how could he do it!

Mag: (hesitantly) We were just asking ourselves that question. The laws of robotics should have prevented his ... final step.

{Johnstone enters unnoticed}

Che: He explained it, but ... I don't know ...

Bill: The (all start) laws of robotics didn't prevent it because the laws of robotics didn't apply. (More confidentially, and with growing animation) I've been with him thirty-two years - twenty-six as his research assistant. I've supervised the surgeons, mainly the robots. (With some contempt) I've seen the application of the laws of robotics. None of these robots would harm a human, or allow one to come to harm. But none of them would do anything beyond their explicit orders to help one, either. They don't look for opportunities to be helpful - and they certainly don't return kindness for abuse. During these years of courtroom wrangling, Mr. Martin has been the victim of some of the most malicious attacks that have ever disgraced the public media. Yet his responses were unfailingly generous to his detractors. His anonymous philanthropies only increased. No! The laws of robotics don't produce compassion! He may have been bound by them at one time, but their control was gradually dissolved by his own habits of kindness. The legislation only recognized a condition that already existed. He was a man - or what one is supposed to be.

Mag: (After a pause, slowly) Officially, U.S. Robots considered Andrew Martin its most notorious product. But privately, he was always regarded as our greatest triumph. Yet, somehow, we always knew it was a triumph we had nothing to do with.

Che: (In awe) He was a miracle!

Bill: And miracles aren't made by Man. But he hasn't much time. He'd like to see you all.

{They shuffle from the laboratory to the bedside. The monitor signals are slower, and Andrew's breathing is labored.}

And: (Distantly) I had all the time in the world. And now there are only minutes.

Sim: (Gently) Have you any regrets?

And: I'm sorry to leave such a beautiful day. No. No regrets. It had to be this way.

Che: (half to herself) Oh, Mr. Martin.

And: (Trailing off) I've heard you say that before...seems like yesterday...

Che: (Gasping back sobs) Oh, Mr. Martin ... {Her speech fades into Andrew's memory of:}

Che: (Uneasily businesslike) Oh, Mr. Martin ... {She and Andrew are in her offices} ... I'm glad to see you. I'll be presenting your Humanity Bill to the senate tomorrow. I was going to be calling a press conference this afternoon: if you have time, I'd like you to be there.

And: (A little faintly) I can wait.

Che: (A little surprised at his tone) Is something wrong?

And: (With forced heartiness) No .. No. Nothing unexpected. Your term expires at the end of this session, doesn't it?

Che: Yes. I'm going to miss these offices. And I'm going to miss fighting for your cause. I've heard it said that lost causes were the only ones that were worth fighting for. It's true: I've enjoyed the fight. I'm just sorry it'll have to remain a lost cause.

And: You haven't much hope of the bill becoming law, then.

Che: (Regretfully) No. And I won't be in office to submit it again. But I'm sure you can find another member of Congress to present your petition.

And: I don't think that will be necessary.

Che: Well, you have more faith in public opinion than I have. (Another idea occurs to her) You don't mean you've decided to give up?

And: No - (almost an aside) - not the petition. (Aloud) You once said we could see the promised land, but the Jordan couldn't be crossed. I think I'll be crossing it soon.

Che: (suspiciously) What are you getting at?

And: The last time we met, you told me the main thing that separated me from humanity was that my brain can function indefinitely. (Pauses) I've arranged to remove that obstacle.

Che: (Not comprehending what he's saying) How?

And: Years ago, my brain was connected to organic nerves. I've had the connections reorganized so that the brain's potential is gradually being drained away.

Che: (Beginning to understand) You mean you're killing your brain?

And: That's what it amounts to.

Che: But! ... How! None of your surgeons would have performed that operation!

And: I went to a private clinic. The robot surgeon probably never even heard of me.

Che: But, my good man, you can't have done it! The laws of robotics forbid self-harm!

And: (A gentle rebuke) I'm a man bound by the laws of robotics?

Che: (caught) ... Um ... uh ...

And: (Not taking offense, but wearily) Then I will answer you by the laws of robotics. The life of my aspiration - to be a man - is of greater importance than my physical existence. Therefore, it merited the greater protection, and took precedence.

Che: (acknowledging her error, but unbelieving) But the robot surgeon, then! The laws of robotics would have prevented it from performing a patently deadly operation on a man!

And: On a man, yes. (With sad irony) But I am still a robot.

Che: (A stunned gasp, as if struck - realizing just how dreadfully trapped between two worlds he's been all this time) Uh!

And: ... And so the surgeon obeyed when I gave it the order.

Che: (With mounting horror) But this isn't going to help! Have it reversed!

And: It's too late for that. I figure I have about a year left. I was (shrugging) vain enough, I suppose, to arrange to last through the two-hundredth anniversary of my activation. And after that ...

Che: (Nearly beside herself) But what can you possibly gain by ... by dying!

And: If it succeeds in gaining me humanity, it will be worth it. And if it fails ... (Suddenly weary, old, and unspeakably lonely) ... it will bring an end to striving. And that, too, will be worth it.

{The intercom finally breaks the silence}

Che: (Finally answering out of habit, weakly) Yes? Yes. Call the press conference. As quickly as possible. I have an announcement ... (starts to choke) ... about Andrew Martin ... (begins to weep) {Fading out.}

{The scene fades into applause in a small auditorium full of people. The World President is heavily "miked"}

Pres: (Speaking in phrases) ... Through six generations, he has joined us in preserving our lives, protecting our rights. He has rejoiced in our joys; suffered with our griefs. He has joined us in life, and, regretfully, he will soon be joining us in death.

{The President seats himself, and speaks as he signs, one letter at a time}

Pres: Fifty years ago, U.S. Robots declared you a Sesquicentennial Robot, Andrew. Today, on your Two-Hundredth Anniversary, the World Legislature declares you ... A Bicentennial Man ... Mr. Martin!

{The signing is greeted with enthusiastic applause}

Pres: (Through the applause, no longer "miked") Here's the pen.

And: (Moved almost beyond speech) Thank you! (And not for the pen!)

{The applause rise, mixed with cheers, and voices in the crowd begin to acclaim:}

Crowd: Mr. Martin! Mr. Martin! {Fading into realtime} Mr. Martin!

O Rog: (Softly) Mr. Martin? Mr. Martin? Do you remember me? I'm Roger Bailey. (He is a pleasant man of about thirty.)

And: (very weak, but fondly) I remember. You were ... smaller then.

O Rog: (Gently) I'm a big strong man, just like you said. (A little awkwardly and uncertainly) I'm a school teacher now. My wife and I've adopted a couple ... here, I have a picture. {Fumbling with his wallet.} That's my wife Marcy, and that's Annie and little Andrew.

And: Little? ... After? ...

O Rog: Yes. There wouldn't have been a Bailey family if it hadn't been for you.

And: I'm so proud ... As if you'd been ...

O Rog: I am, in a way, aren't I? You gave me a life when you gave me a body. A body the same as yours, you said.

And: You remember all that ... (Sighs, greatly moved)

O Rog: You know (hesitating a little), I have something that belongs to you. I've been keeping it a long time ...

And: I ... didn't forget ...

O Rog: But you never came back for it. Could ... I give it to you now?

And: (Gasping) Oh, yes! Yes!

{The bed squeaks as Roger gives Andrew that hug.}

Che: (aside) I've never seen him weep before.

Bill: (Quietly) I have. But not for joy.

O Rog: {Releasing him} I'm sorry it was so long in coming.

And: No. It was just in time.

O Rog: But I'd better go now. I didn't mean to interrupt ...

And: Oh no. Please stay. (Louder) All of you stay. Death is just the price we pay to live. Don't be afraid to watch it. {Sinks back, exhausted from the effort. The monitor gives a gentle alarm as the impulses slow.}

Bill: He's failing fast.

Mag: He wasn't any different from the others. He just had the opportunity. What was that opportunity?

Sim: I don't know. We'll never know now.

{The monitor speeds up momentarily, the slows. The alarm sounds again.}

And: Where? ... Where? ... {All crowd around the bedside}

Che: (Tense with agitation) We're here ... we're all here .. that love you ... Alvin, and Simon, and Bill, (starting to choke) and Roger ... Here. Here I am {Taking his hand}. (She begins to sob.)

And: Please .. don't... (thinks a moment, then, surprised:) ... All ... You are all here ...

{The room sounds fade into Andrew's thoughts. They come quickly and overlap.}

And: I am a man ...

Sir: I'm proud of you ... as proud as if you were ...

And: ...Man...

Rog: He's a nice man, Mommy!

And: ... man ...

OL Miss: Synthetic doesn't mean imitation.

And: ... a man ...

Paul: You have a nice face!

And: ... man ...

Pres: ... A Bicentennial Man, Mr. Martin ...

{Which fades out quickly into the "realtime" sound of the Martin patio of two centuries before, after Miss's birthday party. The music box plays slowly.}

L Miss: (Clearly, at a distance) I love Andrew!

Miss: (at a distance, and indistinct.) Silly! you can't love Andrew! He's... (This time, she is cut off by L Miss's gleeful, triumphant laughter.)

L Miss: (Very close) I love you, Andrew! Thiiis much!

And: (in realtime, very weakly, but as fondly as before) Little Miss!

{The last notes of the music box tune fade into the sound of the monitor's flat-line. The scene gently fades to silence.}

The End

Optional "Lights Out" opening, which might be helpful if the script is to be performed before an audience:

Narrator: LIGHTS OUT ... EVERYBODY! {Gong}

That was the name of one of the most innovative – and scary – programs of radio's earliest days. It was written by Arch Oboler, one of the most innovative writers of radio programs of any day. Arch Oboler understood, not only how to write the plays, but how to produce them to give the greatest impact on the audience. For example, he used to begin _Lights Out_ by advising the listeners that they would enjoy their terror more in the dark: they would have no visual distractions to the scenes their imaginations were about to paint.

One of his insights into radio production was that the actual presentation of a radio drama has no business being seen by its audience. Their mind's eyes created scenes and characters more vivid than anything they could see with their literal ones. And the sight of ordinary men and women crowded around a microphone, and a couple of fellas at a sound table smashing peach baskets, would blind that eye of the mind, spoiling the illusion. But part of the reason we're here is to demonstrate how a radio show is put together.

Well, back in the 'thirties, when _Lights Out_ was first broadcast, one of the slang words for "eyes" was "lights". So, if you're interested in radio drama production, get ready to watch closely.

But for the rest of us: {Closes eyes and points at them}

LIGHTS OUT ... EVERYBODY! {gong}

* * *

Notes

1As is the case in normal conversation, throughout the drama, speeches frequently overlap, the speakers use sounds instead of words, and regularly interrupt each other.

2A suggested effect might be for "realtime" to fade and take on an "underwater" sound quality. The memories and memory sequences remain clear. Memories within memories could sound like echoes.

3Perhaps you've seen the game played with children, in which, when asked how much they love you, they stretch their arms out as far as they'll go and announce "This Much!" The adult is then able to gather the child into an embrace without the child's arms getting in the way. This is the action taking place between Sir and Little Miss.

4As a metal robot, he is also going to be making noises when he moves or comes in contact with anything. And as Anthony Daniels once pointed out, robots don't breathe. Pauses where breaths should be will still be made, though.

5Same accents as "Parasol": the emphasis is on "Little".

6John 14:15.

7 from the Gilbert and Sullivan opera _The Gondoliers_, Act 1: "Try we lifelong we can never straighten out life's tangled skein". Among his many interests, Isaac Asimov was also an avid Gilbert and Sullivan enthusiast.

8He will also breathe naturally and no longer makes noises when he moves.

9 From the Gilbert and Sullivan Opera _The Mikado_, Act 2: "Brightly dawns our wedding day".

10While not essential, the sound of children laughing and running through autumn leaves, which cuts off abruptly at "Instead of" might be desirable.

11 Psalm 89:48


End file.
